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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601130">People are puppets held together with string</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AToZRainToBe/pseuds/AToZRainToBe'>AToZRainToBe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Treating my memory of you like a fire (let it burn out) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Insane Wilbur Soot, Niki is trying her best, Niki needs a hug, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:01:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AToZRainToBe/pseuds/AToZRainToBe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Title from “sadness runs through him” by The Hoosiers)</p><p>She was a dying star, and he was already dead. </p><p>Or; Nikki talks at Wilbur in front of a campfire while their friends bury bodies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Niki | Nihachu &amp; Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Treating my memory of you like a fire (let it burn out) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>People are puppets held together with string</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the cold and quiet of the night, the fire dies, and the world around him breaks into nothingness. </p><p>With his final thoughts, he wonders if this is when he dies.</p><p>He pieces himself together with each bite he takes of the bread he doesn’t register in his hands. It tastes like ash. Nikki is in front of him, speaking; “Wilbur, how- how could you!?” </p><p>Her hair is splayed against her back, framing her face as she yells. She’s level with him, inches away from the dead coal of the fire, face dry of tears but lined with anger. </p><p>He wants to feel angry, too. “You- have you seen what you did to Tubbo? To Fundy? They- Wilbur, they were-are- your friends! Wilbur, you’re not even listening, are you!?”</p><p>He isn’t, he stopped listening when she started yelling. But he is watching, he is looking at her. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t feel anything, does it? She’s bound to betray him the minute they find someone better. She was never his friend. </p><p>“Tubbo is a child, Fundy is supposed to be your-“</p><p>It’s like the dying of a star, he thinks, watching her yell. She looks like the dying of a star, all passion and fire and colour, everything he wishes he could feel. Instead, he feels like ice. Her fists are balled, smashing the ground-careful to miss his legs- and lined with fury. </p><p>“You- Wilbur Soot, you are a Monster!” Her voice would echo if it could, and even here, where it can’t, it rings in his head and weaves through the trees around him. “You’re a monster! A sick- a sick freak! You- Why didn’t you talk to me!?” </p><p>There is fire, there is anger, there is an explosion in her body. It all dies down to quiet, like the scattering of gasses, like the final stage of a star’s death. He wonders if she feels as cold as he does. There are tears on her cheeks now, and he wishes he had something like sadness left in him, too. “Why won’t you talk to me, Wilbur?”</p><p>She’s small. Like the remains of something beautiful; she’s so small he thinks he could wrap her in his coat or jumper with him. He doesn’t. But she grabs at his coat, balling the cloth in her fists. Then she’s tugging on it with a final burst of power; “Fuck you! Fuck- goddamn it, fuck you, Wilbur!”</p><p>“Fuck-“ There is no power left. Her head falls on his shoulder, tears staining his jacket. “Fuck… fuck you, Will. I- you- you could’ve- if only you’d spoken to me, I would’ve helped, I promise.”</p><p>Blank. Empty. There are no tears mirrored on his cheeks. He doesn’t move a single muscle as she sobs into his coat; he is unworthy of comforting her. She begs him too, moving his hands as if he were hugging her, but they fall away in seconds. </p><p>She sobs even harder. </p><p>Hours later, the fire starts again, and the only memory of the star that died before him is the tear-stained patch on the left shoulder of his coat. </p><p>He shatters. The world is stable, but when he stares at his hands, they’re as broken as his vision had been. He shivers, though no one notices, and swears he hears the voices of his family (disappointed, they all sound so disappointed) ringing in his ears.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shout out to my English LO for the idea of a dying star !! Shout out to my friend who let me ramble on and on without them ever telling me to shut up!! Shout out to my mother for giving birth (to me) !!</p><p>And shout out to my dog for being disgusting and I love him &lt;3</p><p>Remember to love yourselves &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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